Marathon Monday

I have thought a lot about what to write this week. In my last post, I congratulated the 2013 Boston runners and spectators on the upcoming race. Little did I know how much they would deserve those cheers and praises. My personal part in the day is hard to tell since others went through much more. But, in short, I was a few blocks from the explosions but soon to be headed in that direction (had the trains been running a few minutes faster, it could have been a different day). I was also one of the few people who knew immediately that my sister in the race was absolutely okay. I didn't experience the same terror that others unfortunately did.

One thing I do share in common with everyone there is a deep gratitude and pride for the people who act in a crisis. That day, I was with my brother who happens to work in Boston law enforcement (we'll leave it at that). One of the most powerful experiences—and something I hope I never forget—was to see him go from a guy with sunglasses eating a hamburger to someone who literally launched (you should see him walk) into action. Yes, he has been trained and is often involved in dangerous situations, most of which we never know about. Still, no amount of schooling can give someone his pure feelings of responsibility. That comes from years of simply being a good and moral man. Like many others on Marathon Monday, he showed no hesitation to be in the middle of it all; he sacrificed sleep, time with his family, and his own safety for people who will never even know his name.

 

So, as cheesy as it may seem, here's to heroes, whether they are homegrown (in a cowboy hat) or those thoroughly trained. Here is to the only people who can make a dark situation seem hopeful.

Scream Out a Number

Next week, my sister Amie will wake up on marathon Monday and run 26.2 miles on the historic streets of Boston. And lucky for me, I will be there to cheer her on at every mile. I will scream and shout, and yes, I will probably cry. For one whole day, my life will be completely secondary to the happiness and success of hers. And for that, I am thankful.

While seeing thousands of runners living out their athletic dream is pretty big, a close second is the sight of thousands of bystanders who come to cheer the runners on. I've been told that many of these people do not have someone in the race but simply show up to scream out from the sidelines the numbers of people they don't even know. They are there to throw their positive encouragement on the runners like you'd throw rice and rose petals at a wedding—liberally and without constraint. I have to say, I find this sentiment powerful—to cheer someone else on, someone we may not know, with all the genuine feeling of our hearts. To forget for a minute, an hour, or a day about our own big hills and long stretches and completely focus on helping someone else get through theirs. To me, it is a reminder that we are part of a larger world that gains nothing from our negativity and everything from our friendly and positive push.

 

So here's to the 2013 Boston runners and to every moment we spend believing that the success of a friend, or even a stranger, is as big as our own.

Letting Go

One of the most difficult transitions into complete adulthood, for me, has been deciding how much I'll let what other people think affect me. I realize this is not a new idea (case in point, Oprah articles and bookstore self-help books). Still, it's hard to master, and there is inevitably a moment in our lives where we can no longer hold on more tightly to the opinions of others than we do to our own personal judgment, dreams, and feelings.

Really, it is as simple as letting go and letting live. One day, we will make a decision that someone close to us does not agree with. And in that moment, we will stop and consider, hopefully carefully, what they are saying. But, though torn, we may turn and continue walking forward because we firmly believe we are headed where we want to go. That moment of walking alone without the rally of everyone around us is frightening. And if the decision goes sour, a little embarrassing too. But in the loneliness of some of our decisions, we also come to know and trust ourselves more implicitly, owning our own lives more than we ever have before. Maybe it is time to sign our names next to not only our victories, but by our decisions that seem less certain too. In both losses and wins, great people are made. In both company and solitude, solid character is formed.

So here is to believing in ourselves with a robust confidence that might appear unmerited. Here is to signing our life decisions in pen, accepting that we are here to learn, to live, and to love.